Return
by Corporate Voyeur
Summary: When Iceman returns from a mission, Maverick realizes just how much he missed him. Ice/Mav, but what else have you come to expect?


The sky above the massive black aircraft carrier was painted in dynamic shades. Garish yellows and loud oranges were splashed across the massive dome-shaped canvas of an atmosphere, followed by a more muted red that delicately outlined the distant horizon. The sinking sun was a corpulent orb that cast gold tones upon the almost-black water; its retreat brought a cool chill to the night air. And against this picturesque background, a single figure was cut in a slim silhouette atop the barely-moving carrier.

Pete Mitchell was torn between self-conscious disgust and anticipatory anxiety in the strangest way. He couldn't believe he was acting this way. He began this cycle of pacing below decks until he decided that it was just fresh air he needed to sooth his frayed nerves.

Alas, this would not cure Maverick's fretfulness. If anything else, being up on the flight deck actually made him more nervous. At least his view was limited down below; where ignorance is truly bliss.

Maverick's reason for being so agitated was simple (or as simple as these matters can be); Tom "Iceman" Kazansky had been sent out on a weeklong reconnaissance mission. Maverick didn't know the specifics of this assignment, but what he did know was that Iceman was leaving for a week. A whole week. Slider was leaving too, but Pete wasn't in a relationship with Slider, so to him he said goodbye a bit easier.

Maverick cursed himself for the umpteenth time that evening for being such a damn hopeless woman about it all, but really, he couldn't help but feel somewhat bored and a variety of lost as well. A whole week without any of that stubborn, feisty, arrogant Kazansky had made Maverick very antsy. Why Viper didn't send Maverick out as their wingman was beyond him, but that man had his reasons.

His completely illogical and unconventional reasons.

"Dammit, what the hell am I doing?" Pete quietly said to no one, gripping the railing at the edge of the craft in frustration, not out of concern for safety. He contemplated just jumping off the flight deck and into the dark water; it would keep his mind off Ice for just a minute, which would be a welcome respite indeed. However, the sparse dozen or so workers milling around on deck would probably think that he had lost his mind and send up an alarm which would raise some serious consequences.

He could feel his jawline tensing up. Maverick just couldn't stop thinking of all the things that could go wrong for Iceman. The engines could fail, they could collide with another plane in midair, a MiG could shoot them down, or they could simply drop out of the sky.

_Maybe I just need to go sleep. I'll see him in the morning,_ Maverick thought as he retreated to the door to go below decks to the bunks. He realized just how tired he was when he stifled a yawn. However, fatigue or not, he couldn't get rid of the velociraptors that were thrashing about in his stomach. Gastric dinosaurs or not, Pete descended the stairs and was nearing his bunk when he heard a sound.

And hell if it wasn't a sound he knew as well as his own voice (or Tom's, for that matter). It was the lovely cadence of the sound barrier being mercilessly shattered by a fighter jet.

As if on a dime, Maverick turned and opened the door again and peered out into the sky. Sure enough, the jet was a beautiful black against the fiery colors of the evening sky, and rapidly approaching the carrier. Maverick slipped out onto the deck and (more or less) hid along the railing out of the workers' view as they started to prepare for the plane's landing. The engines of the jet became louder and louder as it neared, and at last Maverick felt the jolting impact of the jet's

_(Ice's ohgodhe'sfinallyback)_

landing and felt his heart start to race. He put a hand to his chest to try and stop his runaway organ, but it only became faster as he heard the engines shut off and the cheers that greeted the daring pilot and his R.I.O. as they emerged from the plane. It was all Pete could do not to run out and throw his arms around Tom, but he miraculously stood his ground.

As he stood against the railing and looking out at the rapidly darkening sky, he wondered if Ice would actually come find him here. It was a spot that wasn't particularly hidden but not entirely in view either. _Or maybe_, Maverick thought, _I'll stand out here all night, the dark water is actually kind of-_

"Hey," a voice called.

Looking to his left, Pete saw none other than Iceman. _The_ Iceman, to be exact; _his_ Iceman to be even more precise. He stood there in all his smirking nonchalance, but advanced on Maverick until he was standing right next to him. He leaned on the railing and stared out at the horizon and then turned to Pete.

"Nice night out, huh?"

Maverick felt a flare of anger. He snorted and rolled his eyes. "A whole week and I don't even get a simple '_hello_'? Jesus Christ, Ice, you're considerate," Then Maverick, who could never stay mad at Tom for long, glanced downward, mumbling.

"Sorry, I've just been kinda worried. I mean, anything could've happened to you and Slider, I just—"

He was interrupted by Ice, who pulled Maverick against his chest and held him there tightly. This gesture silenced any unsure thoughts better than any verbal response ever could. Pete was taken by surprise by this sudden action, but wasn't complaining in the least. Tom's muscular chest was warm beneath his flight suit, a welcome antidote to the advancing chill of the night. Maverick's arms, of their own volition, rose to encircle Ice's back and hold fast to the material there.

"Mitchell," Tom intoned into Pete's ear, his hot breath seeming to burn Pete to cinders, "ya know I'm always watchin' out, both for me and for you. For all of us."

Not quite knowing what he was meaning, Maverick simply nodded into Ice's shoulder and looked up at him. There was an expectant look in that handsome face. In a rare moment of silence between the two pilots, Maverick ran his hands up and down Tom's back with a touch that made Ice close his eyes and sigh appreciatively.

"I gotta be honest with ya, Mav," Ice started in an almost-whisper, "I did kinda miss ya."

Maverick stopped his soothing backrub almost instantly. The sudden lack of movement startled Ice, who opened his hazel eyes to meet Pete's suddenly needy blue ones, still glittering in the imminent darkness.

"Show me." The shorter pilot growled, his fingers digging into the material of Ice's flight suit.

Tom swiftly pressed his lips to Maverick's while shoving him against the railing of the carrier. Pete's initial reflex was to tighten his hold on the body in front of him and twine his legs with Ice's. The pressure of the rails on his back and the deepening of the kiss was such a combination of pleasure and pain that Pete involuntarily bit down on Tom's bottom lip. Maverick quickly ran over the bite with his tongue and Ice pressed him even closer onto the rails, intensifying the feeling of falling for the both of them. Maverick moaned in partial terror and overwhelming satisfaction. Tom's arms tensed around the smaller pilot and Pete had the strongest feeling of being completely surrounded by him. Ice kissed and bit along Mav's jawline and down his neck, leaving red marks on his skin that were sure to turn into bruises later.

"Tom, you big stud," Maverick gasped, "take me to bed or lose me forever,"

Ice chuckled as he started to pull on Maverick's flightsuit zipper.

"Funny how ya read my mind, Mav."


End file.
